


Counting Promises

by neomints



Series: Denial and Patience [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (just a little), Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, theyre not together but they are u feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 23:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20786708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neomints/pseuds/neomints
Summary: They do this a lot. Tangled in each other like vines in a rose garden. It used to be a rival thing, aggressive and almost predatory, two boys trying to outdo each other for bragging rights. Kyoutani can’t remember when it’d happened butit stopped being a competition. It was just two boys sharing warmth for no reason but the fact of the matter.Kyoutani didn’t mind. If anything, he loved it.—Kyoutani kisses Yahaba, this time with less gay panic, and more gay emotions!





	Counting Promises

**Author's Note:**

> Again this fic is for Jets, because you make me Soft for These Boys... 
> 
> This is part of a series (my first series!) but you don’t technically have ti read the first one to get this... I’d still recommend it though! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy <3

Kyoutani pressed his lips to Yahaba’s cheek.

Once, twice, three times.

He was on twenty two when Yahaba began to stroke Kyoutani’s hair. Roughly, but with enough care that it didn’t hurt. Kyoutani leaned into the touch then moved back to press another kiss to Yahaba’s jawline.

Twenty three, twenty four, twenty five...

They do this a lot. Tangled in each other like vines in a rose garden. It used to be a rival thing, aggressive and almost predatory, two boys trying to outdo each other for bragging rights. Kyoutani can’t remember when it’d happened but   
it stopped being a competition. It was just two boys sharing warmth for no reason but the fact of the matter.

Kyoutani didn’t mind. If anything, he loved it.

He loved sharing gentle kisses with Yahaba (fifty two, now), loved feeling those fingers in his hair and on the fabric of his clothes, the same fingers that set to him, that helped him win and that cemented his place as part of a real team.

He couldn’t deny that he loved _Yahaba_ himself, too.

Very few people had the same pride and confidence Yahaba did. Even fewer made Kyoutani feel like he needed to be doing _something_.

Yahaba made Kyoutani want to prectice, want to learn, want to score, and win, and laugh, and scream, and love, and love, and _love._

Kyoutani pressed a kiss to Yahaba’s neck, right above his collarbone, and Yahaba sighed. He relaxed into Kyoutani’s arms, finally resigning himself to his own comfort.

It was hard for him, Kyoutani knew. Yahaba couldn’t admit to his own feelings no matter what anyone said.

But Kyoutani could keep holding him like this. He could keep kissing him like this. He could keep chipping away at layer after layer of fear, of self-loathing, of anxiety, of internalized emotions Kyoutani couldn’t begin to imagine. He could keep being with him him for as long as it took.

Another kiss, this time pressed to the corner of Yahaba’s mouth, and this time when he sighed Kyoutani could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against his temple.

He pressed lips to lips; gently, cautiously, as though caressing a winter bloom, and Yahaba leaned in, as surely as the sun shines in the morning.

Yahaba always did. He always kissed back.

Lips caught lips and tongues peaked out just to greet each other promptly. It was sweet and mismatched and they didn’t quite meet with the same rhythm but it worked and it always would.

Kyoutani pressed his palm to Yahaba’s chest and felt the way their hearts beat perfectly in sync. He opened his eyes barely; saw Yahaba’s eyelashes and the freckles that ghosted his cheeks.

There’s a promise on his tongue. Or maybe it’s a confession.

He’d said it before, maybe once or twice. Maybe a hundred.

Once when they’d first connected in the court.

Once when they’d first connected off it.

Once for every time Kyoutani’s lips met warm skin, and warmer lips.

Ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred.

He leaned back and took Yahaba in. Yahaba whom he respected. Yahaba whom he admired. Yahaba whom he...

He pressed his lips to Yahaba’s cheek and nuzzled his neck.

He mumbled a promise into the space above his collarbone for the nth time since he knew, he _knew_ that it was true.

He mumbled those three words, and when Yahaba gripped the fabric of his shirt harder, and pulled him even closer, Kyoutani was surprised to find that maybe Yahaba finally realized he might be able to learn to come to terms it. 

When Yahaba started to press his own promises into Kyoutani’s neck, his heart lost track of it’s rhythm. This was new, this was strange.

This was perfect.

Kyoutani lost count by the hundredth kiss.


End file.
